


flight from death

by vomitspiders



Category: Original Work
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, Blood Drinking, Concerts, Cults, Drinking, Friendship, Other, Religious Cults, Smoking, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vomitspiders/pseuds/vomitspiders
Summary: The screams of the crowd mixed with the roar of the singer in the chorus, creating a symphony of torment unheard in a gloriously long time.~A vampire fic :)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	flight from death

The venue Allistair and her friends found themselves in was admittedly disgusting.

It was a human club in town, with grime encrusted walls and a tendency to grow mould on the ugly green carpet. It's human customer's didn't much care for things like that, they came for the music, not for good hygiene. Wooden walls were coated in a thick layer of stubbed out cigarettes, the butt's of which littered the floor. The stench of said cigarettes lingered in the air, and sometimes felt like a smog had settled near the ceiling. It was a case where, when sitting, once could comfortably only smell the smoke; but as soon as they stood, their heads were suddenly encased in a cloud of grey. 

Allistair and four others were sat in a circle in a back hallway in the building. The couches sank to the ground and were stained and ripped in inconceivable places. Shadows cast by the dim and flickering overhead light slanted across strong brows and formed unsettling grins, casting the group in darkness. They were a distance away from the the main stage, where a band was playing loud, angry music, screaming lyrics of absentee gods and lives without beauty. The vampires' enhanced senses helped them hear the music still, aided by the strong bass that caused the floor to vibrate. 

All five of them were tipsy, but Damien, who was sat beside Allistair, was completely drunk. His dopey smile gleamed in the dim light, and Allistair was reminded that if she shone a light towards him in the night, his eyes would glow an eery white. It was a rarity that a cheap place like the one they found themselves in served human blood, and so he wasn't quite used to the enticing drink. He didn't tend to frequent places with more expensive tastes. None of them did. Allistair swished the blood in her own paper cup around, admiring the reflection of the dull ceiling light above in the depths of the liquid. The red was not deep and rich, but bright and cartoonish. Evidently the blood had come from a shallow wound. 

Most bars in mainly human towns didn't sell real blood, and if they did, it was watered down to a point where it was nearly undrinkable. Their human clientele tended to get nervous when the remains of their kin were bring sold and consumed around them. It was understandable, but annoying. And unless vamps were hitting the two hundred year mark, they usually didn't enjoy the specifically vampire bars and lounges. Modern vamps were much more interested in modern music, with exceptions. There was also a certain sense of tension in vampire only areas, a realisation by all present that there were expectations and tradition to uphold. It was reminiscent of aristocratic traditions, understand due to the age of the majority who frequented such places. 

Allistair herself had a playlist on her phone she liked to play around her friends when they spent time together like that, in cheap bars or dank basements. It was comprised entirely of songs that referenced vampires in some way, be it a vague entity with teeth too sharp and nails too long, or a genuine mention by name. Her friends hated it. 

The music playing in the bar that night was also very vampire themed, something she knew her friends would hate if they were more sober. As it was, they were just unaware enough to absently tap their feet to the moaning chords of a song she knew to be called, "Count my Stakes". Crude, but a good song. If you enjoy melancholy heartbreak and self hatred. 

Many humans had taken to such songs after the uprising, most likely due to a festering animosity towards the supernatural. It was impossible to be angry about the songs though, as their position was understandable. Especially due to the violent beginnings to vampires coming into the public eye. Newer vampires could empathise, it wasn't too long ago that they would've been a part of the humans rioting. 

Allistair was shaken from her musings by Damiens curly head lolling onto her shoulder. Frowning, she poked his cheek, causing him to let out a low groan and and bat at her hand. His eyes glowed from beneath his eyelids. Satisfied he was still alive, she sank against him as well. At that point they were the only thing keeping each other upright. The couch below them sagged impatiently beneath their weight, threatening to collapse. Despite its diseased state, it was possibly the best seat there, and a coveted one at that. 

The group around them paid them no mind, instead talking quietly between themselves with the paranoia only vampires could express. A history of betrayals that many were alive to see often made vampires excessively worried about the people they surrounded themselves with. As Damien would put it, vampires had a lot of trust issues. To Allistairs left sat a new vampire that was obviously not yet comfortable with the scene they found themselves in. Their eyes darted back and forth, wide and glossy. Fidgeting fingers danced on the fabric of the chair. Distantly, Allistair was confused by how they were acting. Vamps were normally better at hiding uncertainty or nerves. When they checked their silver watch for the fifth time, she finally opened her mouth to question how this vamp came to be in their group. Who had invited them? She couldn't remember ever being introduced to them. 

It was then that it all went wrong.

Screams rose and fell from just beyond their hallway, and blurs of other vamps came rushing past. The screams were most certainly human in origin, something any of them could recognise. Immediately, Allistair and Damien perked up, sharing a worried glance with the two girls across from them. One had purple hair, and the other had orange, but they still looked eerily similar in the way only vampires can. 

The screams of the crowd mixed with the roar of the singer in the chorus, creating a symphony of torment unheard in a gloriously long time. 

It was only once the music cut off abruptly that they could then all hear deep voices and snarls of the Guardians above the roar of the crowd. The Guardians were a lethal force of vamps that prided themselves on their kill count. The respected no judge, no jury no morality. Only the sweet sound of ripping flesh and the steady trickle of thick blood. It was their Lord and master, the thing closest to religion they had. Their prayer was when they sank their yellow fangs into someone they deemed a heathen, only saving those who repented, and then turning them into a being like themselves as penace. 

Her suspicions growing, Allistairs head snapped around to look at the new vamp that had been acting oddly. They were still sat in the same seat, knuckles white from the strength of their grasp on the metal frame of the couch. The vamps eyes widened further when they noticed Allistairs glare, and they flew to their feet in a frenzy of motion. They started to run, and for a moment Allistair worried this criminal, this betrayer, would escape. However, unexperienced as they were, Allistair was easily able to stop them in their tracks, hand flying out to grab her throat. If they were still human, it would have killed them. Their body jerked forward, and Allistair could imagine the creaking of vertebrae and stretching of muscle in their kneck. 

Her eyes narrowed, and she allowed her sharp nails to pierce the soft flesh of the newly changed vampire. 

"Run now," she said to the purple and orange haired girls. "You can't let Them find you." Her eyes never left the new vamps. Damien was at her shoulder, and though she couldn't see his face, Allistair knew he was glaring threateningly at the other vamp, eyes glowing with anger, just as her own were.

It was then that the new kid knew, he'd fucked up 


End file.
